Take Me Back to the Start
by Tadpole24
Summary: He tells her a story...a story she might just believe. Captain Swan post 3x11. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

_What's that you say? Emma's starting a multichap with the knowledge of it always becoming a multichap? No writing a chapter and then being persuaded into the next (although, if you ever have any ideas, send them on over)._

..:::..

Take Me Back to the Start

..:::..

She can't help but smile when he pulls out her seat. Jumping up on the barstool, she swivels around to watch him do the same, "What is your deal?"

He looks at her, truly confused by her question, so she amends, "You think you're a pirate, but you've got an edge of chivalry, however you had no qualms in practically begging me to come out for a drink not even two minutes after my date had walked away."

Her date with Jason tonight had been mediocre at best and he'd bid her farewell in Central Park fairly early in the night with a kiss to the forehead. But she wasn't about to admit that to Killian Jones, the strange pirate man who seemed to have taken quite the liking to her. Something of her thoughts must flicker across her face because he smiles, running his tongue over his teeth. It isn't suggestive, but it sure sends sparks flying through her for no good reason.

"I _am_ a pirate, I'm _always_ a gentleman and you look like you could use a drink," he answers easily. "Two rums," he requests of the bartender who rushes off to pour the drinks looking eager to please the intimidating man in black leather and…is that a sword?

"What if I don't like rum?" Emma interrupts his thoughtless brooding as the drinks come to sit before them, Killian handing over what looks like a gold coin.

The bartender looks at him curiously, then his eyes flick to Emma who merely shakes her head, indicating that they're in a situation she's not sure about either. Unperturbed by any of the floundering going on around him, Killian simply replies, "You like rum."

She wants to chide his boldness, but can't fault him. She does enjoy rum. If only she knew how the hell he knew that. "If this is supposed to be proof that you knew me before-"

He holds up a hand, "Lass, this is just a drink between two…friends, if you will?"

Her eyes narrow, watching him suspiciously, but she can't see a hint of a lie in his features, so she relaxes and takes a sip of her drink, the slightly spiced flavour taking her back to the day at her door with Killian stumbling over her threshold and trying to kiss her into remembrance. Her mind flashes to it sometimes, catching her off guard, she'll see glimpses of it in her dreams, in the thoughts that cling to her mind when she's thinking of nothing else. Sometimes they'll be in the apartment doorway, sometimes in a small clearing, surrounded by green trees, just enough so that they're hidden from any prying eyes.

She shakes her head. No. He has kissed her once, for a fleeting second. That is the only time they have touched.

The silence between them stretches on and she realises that without him trying to convince her of a past she never lived, there's not an awful lot for them to talk about. He seems comfortable with the lack of conversation, sipping on his rum while watching the hockey game playing on TV with an intense curiosity in his eyes. The liquid passes his lips and he holds it there for a second before swallowing, his Adams apple bobbing seductively as the muscles in his neck become known to her.

She tries to hold it in, the breath that escapes her, but he's already turning his head, "For someone who's not interested…" He leaves the sentence hanging in the air as he realises how close she's moved. Whether on purpose or by something unconscious within her, he doesn't know.

"I-" she begins, her eyes fluttering, his breath warm on her lips, "You're dangerous."

He nods so slightly, their noses just bumping, the dizzy spell of alcohol tipping her head, angling just right…

"Aye, lass. But in another life you loved that about me."

It's electric, the way his voice washes over her. She feels calm and safe and at home. But he's speaking of that other life again. The one she can't remember, the one that is crazy to suggest even exists. How could she not know?

"I don't know you," she tries to fight. Tries to remove herself from his allure.

But he's got her. And when his head tilts that millimetre to the left and their lips touch with a bruising intensity she sees flashes of another life, of something impossible. A beanstalk, a giant, a prison cell and him.

"…_just as I am done with you."_

She pushes back, gasping for air and gulping it down like she's been drowning. She scrambles away from him, eyes wide and frightened, "You-"

He holds up his hands in defence, "There's more, I came back. _I came back_."

But it doesn't register. She can only see the pain he caused, the way he left her like everyone else. _Like him._

"It doesn't matter," she's holding back tears, "It isn't real. You're doing this to me. Stop it."

She doesn't care if she sounds crazy. She_ feels_ crazy. This was a stupid, impulsive idea. Henry isn't home tonight and she thought, why not? But this is why. This is why she shouldn't engage in fantasy. Because people leave her and she ends up hurting.

He grabs her arm, but she shakes his hand off. Not thinking clearly and seeing only threat in his movements. Turning on her heel, she runs out of the bar, Killian close behind her.

:::

The burn and scraping feeling against her knees as she falls doesn't deter her for one moment and she grazes her palms fumbling to pick herself back up. She knows that kicking off the six inch heels she's wearing would probably make it easier to get away, but the thin covering of stockings on her feet does nothing to encourage her when it comes to the streets of New York. It's raining and windy, the weather reflective of her emotions – turbulent and unpredictable. She doesn't care. Her urgency is finding her way from him, from the feelings he stirs in her, from the pain and confusion. He can't know her, he just can't. Because the thought that she's not in control of her life after every damn thing she's been through sends physical aching through her bones.

Her hair is wet and matted to her head, her face surely a look of horror with tears and rain mingling on her previously perfectly done makeup. But there's no time to worry about appearances, not with the wet sound of footsteps on the pavement behind her.

"Emma!" the voice calls out, and she has to admit he sounds more desperate than menacing, but a lifetime of disappointment and betrayal has taught her that running is sometimes the only option. She has a son, someone she needs to protect, and if this guy is going to keep following them, she knows the only option is to just get away.

Her heart is pounding as she climbs the flights of stairs to her apartment. She's only on the third floor, but by the time she reaches her door she is completely and utterly exhausted. Shivering and broken, she fumbles with her keys in the lock, finally letting herself in just as Killian makes it up the stairs behind her. The door closes in his face, her body sliding down the painted wood as sobs of fear and exertion wrack her body.

She's not scared of him. She's scared of the power he seems to have over her – the ability to make her feel so unlike herself.

He crumples against the door from the other side, his hand touching the wooden barrier where he knows her shoulder would be resting. He wants to comfort her, "Emma, please. I only just found you." And he sounds just as broken as her, "I can't lose you again."

She breathes in and out in a rhythm of her own device, something that had calmed her when she was a little girl in the foster system. Ignoring him is hard, but she manages to get herself off edge before turning her head slightly. With the door between them, it feels safer somehow. There's already distance between them.

"Tell me a story," she says softly, hearing the rub of leather as he moves.

And when he speaks it's as though he's whispering into her ear, the rumbling accent sending chills down her spine. "Once upon a time," he begins.


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, response to chapter one was awesome! Thank you to all of you for the reviews, follows and faves and for just coming along to read. I hope you in some way enjoy this :)_

…

Two

…

She wakes up cold and sore, her skin still damp from the rain, her hair hanging in frizzy curls brought on by the moisture. Her eyes open and her dreams disappear with each blink, memories and stories confused and muddled. A ship on a sea of stars, the captain a man with a hook for a hand. It's crazy. Ludicrous. _Incredible_.

A glance at the clock on the wall tells her it's barely 7am and even though it's Saturday she feels reluctant to sleep in. And no, it's not because of the crazy pirate man sleeping outside her apartment.

Oh yeah. Crazy pirate. Outside her apartment.

A groan escapes her as she pulls herself up, her aching body protesting all the way. There's dried blood sticking her stockings to her legs from where she fell last night, the grazes cracking and pulling as she raises herself slowly to open the door.

She doesn't know what to make of her heart beat speeding up, but can't ignore the butterflies in her belly at the sight of him. Any negativity, any pain, it all disappears for a fleeting moment as she opens the door. Because for once in her life, someone has stayed. She's consistently trying to shove him out of her life, but he is still there. And whether that's creepy or not doesn't even cross her mind because the gesture catches her so off guard.

Before he can stir, she finds herself closing the door again, her thumb shoots to her mouth, chewing on the nail as she tries to comprehend just exactly what she's going to do about this guy. Because he's obviously not going anywhere fast.

She settles on a shower to give herself some time to think and time for Killian to leave. Mentally preparing her day gives her a moment of reprieve, planning to collect Henry from his friend's house after lunch and do a spot of grocery shopping. That's the easy stuff, the everyday stuff. It's been a year since they moved into this apartment but there are still a few shelves to go up, a couple of paintings she'd like to display. She nods to herself as she washes the conditioner out of her hair. This is what she needs. Easy, methodical.

However, any efforts on her part to forget about the man in leather sleeping outside her apartment go completely out the window as she steps out into her lounge room and the man in question is casually flicking through an old magazine she'd left sitting on her coffee table.

Her eyes widen and she stumbles back, her hand instinctively reaching for the phone. But he's got that too, holding it up to show her just how much she doesn't have the upper hand.

"What the hell?!" she breathes, her heart positively racing. She hadn't thought of him as a threat before, but the way he's sitting there so calmly screams psychopath to her and she's suddenly very aware of the fact that she's all alone in this apartment. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"Pirate, remember?" He looks at her sincerely, his eyes screaming honesty at her, "Lass, I just wish to talk."

She doesn't know what it is about him that makes her want to keep giving him chances where with others she never would. A nagging voice at the back of her head reminds her that it's probably because he hasn't necessarily done anything to warrant needing a second chance. In fact, apart from an ill-timed kiss upon their first meeting, he has been a perfect gentleman. A gentleman who has consistently shown up when he's said he's going to, a gentleman who's soft voice had lulled her into a peaceful sleep only last night.

She's still uncertain of his sanity, but for whatever reason it seems logical for her to sit on the couch with him and listen to what he has to say, "But this is the last time. I can't have you hanging around here anymore. Henry lives here too and…"

"Oi! The lad enjoys my company."

She can't deny him that. Henry has always had a big imagination and a big heart. So when a man had been pleading for them to just listen while it had been pouring rain outside, Henry had been the one to let him in. It was the first of several times they would hear his story. Of a pirate looking for a lost girl.

She clasps her hands in front of her, pondering how best to address the whole situation, "Killian, I don't know who you are, but this has got to end."

He nods and she can't quite believe that he's agreeing, but his mouth opens and she realises quite suddenly that his nod is not one of acceptance, "It will end when you remember me, when you remember your life."

"No, but you don't understand. This _is_ my life. I don't know how else to make you see." Her eyes plead for him to get it, "I can't hold off on calling the cops much longer, this is bordering on harassment."

And even he can see her threats are empty, but he still leans away from her a small amount. She thinks she may have finally got to him, but instead he reaches inside a leather satchel to pull out a large book. She glances the title as he flips it over in his hands.

"Really? A book of fairy tales? Killian, this needs to stop."

He looks down, obviously hurt, but ignores her protests, "This is the story of so many lives, lives of people I care about more than I thought I ever could. It would please this pirate's heart if you would merely consider the possibility of some truth in these tales." His good hand lingers over the cover of the book, reverence in his touch, "I'll leave this with you, lass."

And with that he stands, leaving the leather bound pages on her coffee table. He's nearly made it to the door when she catches him, "Killian?"

He breathes out, his eyes closing and, basking in the bittersweet way her voice caresses his given name, he turns to face her. "Aye?"

"Will I-? When will-?" she's not quite sure how to ask, but he's certain of his answer.

"Tomorrow, love. I'll see you tomorrow."

And she smiles because she knows he'll keep his word.

…

"Why didn't you tell him to stay, mom?" Henry complains as he crashes through the door and into the apartment, "I like him."

She tries to stop the little pain that hits her heart at his words. She knows he doesn't mean it in any way horrible, but she does sometimes feel guilty that she's bringing up a boy without a father figure in his life. And it's nice that he seems to have found someone he likes in Killian, but really? Did it have to be a delusional man with an aptitude for fairy tales?

"He said he'll be by tomorrow."

Henry smiles, flopping down on the couch, "Good. I want to ask him more about Peter Pan!"

She doesn't know why she does it, but at this point, her motives for everything are quite questionable, as though she's not really herself, so she waves a hand towards the book still sitting on the coffee table, "He left that if you want to see if there's anything in there."

His whole face lights up, "No way! He left this with us? This is so important!"

She shakes her head, "Henry, I don't know if you should be buying into this whole story. He could be very dangerous."

But her son is very perceptive and sees right through her, "Oh right mom. That's why you invited him into the house. Just admit it – you like him."

She wants to laugh, but it's really unnerving her how much it's starting to show, how her feelings towards the man who calls himself a pirate are bubbling to the surface. But instead of admitting it to her son – or herself for that matter – she rolls her eyes at him. "Just read your book," she mutters before escaping the knowing look her son is shooting her.

…

"You're nearly twelve, kid."

"It doesn't matter. I want you to read one to me."

Emma looks furtively at the book. It's one thing for Killian to try and make her read it, but another thing entirely for her son to, "Do you guys have it in for me or something? Is he calling you and planning this with you?"

Henry shakes his head as he crawls under the blankets of his bed. "He doesn't even own a phone, mom," he says matter-of-factly.

How he knows this she doesn't even want to try and figure out. She hasn't let the 'pirate' into their life _that much_, has she?

"Okay, okay, one story," she concedes. It can't hurt to read just one, plus she can't remember the last time she did this for Henry. She shakes her head as she sits down and opens the book, she _should_ be able to remember that, right? Surely in his life she's done this.

"Can you read the one about Captain Hook and Tinkerbelle?"

Emma frowns, still thrown off by her seemingly missing memories, and now _this_? "Hook and Tinkerbelle? That's not how the story goes. What are they true loves or something?" she says it as a joke, but still feels a tug of jealousy in the pit of her stomach that she can't explain.

Henry shakes his head, "No, Tinkerbelle helps people _find_ their true love."

She raises her eyebrows at this new twist, "And Captain Hook, villain of the seven seas, has a true love?"

He nods, smiling up at his mother, "Yeah, he does."


	3. Chapter 3

_I've got the next few chapters all outlined so there shouldn't be too long a wait for the next chapter. I hope you enjoy this one! Thank you for all the wonderful feedback – I can't believe there are nearly 100 people following this (99, but who's counting? hehe). Would love to hear from you all and give you each a cyber-hug :) _

…

Three

…

She flicks through the pages with greed, hungry for the next story. It's nearing midnight and Henry is fast asleep having fallen into slumber about ten minutes after Emma had started reading to him. His lips had turned up in a smile under the spell of sleep and she couldn't help but mimic him, watching his soft breaths enter and leave him.

But curiosity had gotten the best of her in the end and now she finds herself sitting on the couch trying to discover a hint of why she feels so connected to these stories. They're just the tales she read as a kid, stories she had wistfully wished to come true, but somehow, their small twists and turns feel personal, as though she has lived in these moments, as though she knows these people.

She almost jumps out of her seat when one of the clocks in her house strikes midnight, laughing to herself that she's reading Cinderella at that moment. She continues to rifle through the pages until she comes to the character she's most curious about. Henry had asked for a tale of Captain Hook and Tinkerbelle, so she had read him a story from Neverland, but this particular one seems to be taking place somewhere else, somewhere so familiar to her…

…

"I thought I might find you here." Tink's voice is soft and cautious, unsure how to approach the broken man in front of her.

While the people around him grow comfortable in their surrounds, he feels pushed to the outskirts. Not by anyone else's doing, but by his own thoughts. They all seem so willing to leave behind this woman who has helped each of them out at some point and her son who just has the most incredible heart despite growing up in confusion. It makes no sense that they try to rebuild this place they all call home when his home is where his heart is, and his heart is with Emma.

"You may tell the good prince that if he wishes my movement from his daughter's nursery, he may ask me himself." It wouldn't be the first time that David requested for him to get out of the room. There was never any malice in the wish, only concern on the prince's part for the pirate's mental wellbeing. He's been holed up in this room, with only semi regular visitors to deliver food to him for weeks now.

"David didn't send me;_ I_ wish to speak with you." Her quiet footsteps are heard making their way across the room and Killian finally looks up, eyes meeting hers and if the way she almost flinches at the sight of him is anything to go by, he seriously needs to work himself out.

There's a small doll sitting next to him that looks oddly like a certain navy officer, the fairy moves it out of the way and sits by him, looking out across the Enchanted Forest.

"And what do you wish to speak of, Lady Belle?"

She reaches out to take his hand, "Close your eyes." He does. "Now remember the first time you met Emma Swan. I want to try something."

His mind's eye takes him back to debris and chaos, her blonde hair shining in the sun, her interrogation strong and stern. She had bested him that day and she had continued to do so from then on, always a step ahead of him, always keeping a firm grip on his heart and engaging his mind.

He hears a light chuckle and his eyes snap open, "What?"

Tink merely nods in the direction of a faint green glow in the middle of the room. He frowns, standing up and making his way over to it. He remembers Snow saying that they'd been here once before, that Emma had seen the inside of her room as an adult and it had brought her to tears – he didn't think any trace of her would be left behind. But there it is, the same golden hair he had just seen in his memories, one single strand surrounded by Tinkerbelle's magic.

"What does that mean?"

The fairy looks up at the pirate and sees the broken man behind his façade, "It means you must find her. If she's your true love neither one of you will be happy without the other."

It's the first time Killian has felt anything but bitter sadness in the past months and it feels good. Determination swells in his chest, his eyes lighting up and seeing colour again after all this time. Everything looks different; the world is filled with possibilities. He has no idea how he's going to get back to her, but the important thing is that he knows it will happen.

He offers his thanks to the fairy before running past her and out of the room. Tinkerbelle smiles as she watches him go – Snow and Charming really should have asked her to do this sooner.

…

Emma jolts awake, her dreams mirroring the events in the book. The couch is hard beneath her and she sits up, stretching out kinks in her neck as the book falls from her chest and open to a random page on the floor. She bends to pick it up, gasping when she sees the picture. Snow and Charming holding their baby daughter to their chests, a mixture of sadness and pride in their gaze. And embroidered on the little girl's blanket, a name.

_Emma. _

She runs a hand over the picture. No, this has to be a trick, this isn't real. She pinches her arm to make sure she's awake, "Ow, dammit."

Still surrounded by the smog of sleep, she's almost certain she's overreacting, but it's just a lot to try and take in. Her dreams had been so strange, Captain Hook and Tinkerbelle walking through this dark tunnel, a mesmerising green gold glow guiding them, calling out to them, using her voice, her body.

She is the one Killian Jones is trying to find, she knows it in her heart, it's not as she had first thought, a mix up of some kind. Whether she believes his stories is another matter, but she knows that it is important that he finds her for whatever crazy messed up reason.

A knock at the door startles her out of her thoughts. Running a shaky hand through her hair and swiping her tongue across her teeth to remove some of the furry feeling, she makes her way to the entrance of her apartment.

She really should have known it would be him, standing there in all his smugness, a cocky grin on his face, "Good sleep, lass?"

She resists the urge to flip him the bird and stands aside, allowing him entrance, "Someone seems to be planting ideas in my son's head that fairy tales are true." She flicks on the kettle, in desperate need of caffeine, her body still responding physically to her dreams, her hands trembling, her breath laboured, "You can barge your way into my life, Killian, but you leave my son out of your fantasy delusions."

He moves forward with caution, "I'm not a dangerous person, Emma. You need to open up to the possibility of something else out there. You'll wish upon a star, but you won't believe in magic? That is the problem with your world."

His words are heated and desperate, his eyes begging. She remembers her dream, the strange glow that Killian had been moving towards. She thinks she can see it now, reflected in his irises. He knows what he's looking at even if she isn't willing to accept it. He loves her.

And somewhere, somehow, deep in the far reaches of a dream she thinks she once had, she sees a man before her, a man with a scar all the way around his neck sitting in a room full of hats. _"You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants a magical solution for their problems and everyone refuses to believe in magic."_

She gasps, reeling away from Killian, "Stop it."

He frowns, trying to reach out to take her hand, to guide her through the complicated mess of her memories, "Emma, darling-"

"No," she says, fury in her words. The kettle is boiling, the whistle overwhelming her, but it's not enough to drown out that voice, that man from another time.

"_Yours is _a_ world. How ignorant are you to think it's the only one?"_

"Killian, I want you to leave."

He backs away slowly, still refusing to turn from her, "Emma, please."

Through the thick fog surrounding her mind, it occurs to her that this man before is the only person in her life that's ever persistently come back and that might be something worth pursuing, but it's too much right now, too crazy, too overwhelming. The tears are trailing down her cheeks before she even realises that she's crying, her body crouching in the corner of her kitchen trying to battle the fearsome war occurring in her mind.

He doesn't want to leave, but she flinches every time he gets too close and eventually he sees that he's causing more hurt than help.

The kettle stops whistling, her mind quietens down and when she finally takes a breath she hears her front door closing as Killian exits.


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry for the angst last chapter guys! Hope I didn't leave you all hanging there ;)_

…

Four

…

She tries to hide her confusion and pain from Henry all day, but knows that the cracks are showing. Still, he doesn't question it when he finds her sitting at the table, fingers tented in front of her lips, her eyes unfocussed and blotchy red from her earlier outburst, he doesn't mention it when she takes extra long in the shower and comes out looking even more exhausted, he doesn't question it when she takes the book of fairy tales and tucks it away on top of a shelf underneath her white woollen blanket. But he draws the line at what she's doing right now.

"Mom," he says quietly, and she looks up as though finally coming out of her haze, "The milk, it doesn't…"

She nods, taking a deep breath and closing the pantry door in favour of the fridge, "I'm sorry I'm not myself today, kid."

He smiles, "It's okay."

But she can tell it's not.

"Hey, how about we go out for dinner tonight? We'll go get pizza and I'll take you to the arcade. You can teach me how to play that driving game you love."

"Sure," he says simply, his lack of enthusiasm betraying his true feelings even more than the way his eyes constantly flick to the shelf in the far corner of the room.

"Henry, we've got to get away from this nonsense," she offers, following his line of sight.

"That's the thing though, mom. I don't think it's nonsense. I keep having dreams about it, about the stories in the book. Sometimes they feel so real."

It's times like these that she questions her choice back in prison. She loves every second that she has with Henry, loves him to pieces, but sometimes there's a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that tells her she is a terrible mother, that she was never ready for this. How did she miss that her son was having dreams about this other life too? How did he sneak it past her? Why did he feel the need?

"Henry, I didn't know."

He's already out of the seat though, already retreating towards his bedroom, "It's okay, mom. Just…pizza will be good tonight."

…

For the amount of tension bubbling around the apartment, Emma and Henry's dinner had passed by quite pleasantly. It isn't often that they get the chance to travel into the city, but the pizza always tastes better just outside of Times Square, as though they make it special for the tourists. Add that to the brightly lit arcades that line the streets and it's a perfect night out for mother and son. Emma's just starting to think that maybe all they need is some quality time together when Henry not-so-subtly drops Killian into the conversation.

They're coming up to the finish line of their race, Emma pulling ahead and then, "You really should give him a chance."

She lets go of the steering wheel, her car rolling a few times before exploding in flames on the side of the road. Henry's yellow sports car speeds past and takes the win. He throws his hands up in the air, taking the moment of victory before turning to face the frustrated eyes of his mother. "I mean, he seems harmless and he tells a great story. If he's crazy then the nuthouse will pick him up eventually. But if he's not, he's actually a decent guy."

She's not completely sure, but she thinks her son is trying to set her up. Her eyes narrow, "You believe him, don't you?"

He shrugs, putting another quarter in the machine, "And you don't?"

"No," she answers, perhaps a little too quickly.

Henry just smiles that knowing smile he seems to have picked up in the last few weeks and selects his car, "I suppose it wouldn't be much of a story if the hero believed right from the beginning."

"You've got to stop saying that, kid."

The little countdown on the screen blinks down to go time on their third race of the night, "It's the only time I've ever said it."

She turns her attention back to the screen, foot ready on the accelerator. "Of course it is," she says more to herself than anyone. _Of course it was._

…

It's with smiles, bags of candy and one giant stuffed elephant that they return to the apartment later that night. Emma's just telling Henry that he definitely needs to go to sleep as soon as they get in because it's a school night when they round the corner and are stopped short by none other than Killian Jones.

Her eyes meet his and for a moment she considers at least greeting him, but the wall around her puts up its defences and instead she slides past him with hardly a glance, pulling out the keys to her apartment, "You didn't feel the need to break in this time?"

Henry shoots her a disapproving look to which Emma rolls her eyes. The kid won't let up.

"Fine, come in."

He closes the door behind him and after Emma wishes Henry a goodnight, she turns to face him.

"I want you to be able to trust me, darling. Invading your personal space and belongings won't get me far on that endeavour I feel."

She goes to flick the switch on the kettle, but upon remembering this morning, she opts for the saucepan and stove option, pouring her milk in and switching on the heat, "I like a man that can learn from his mistakes."

He smiles, feeling comfortable enough to take a few steps forward, "I just wanted to ensure you were alright. You were in quite a state this morning."

"Yeah," she breathes, "yeah, I'll be okay."

The next few minutes pass in relative silence as she adds chocolate powder to the milk and pours the mixture into two mugs, complete with whipped cream and cinnamon. Killian takes a cursory sip, his face scrunching slightly as he tastes the warm concoction.

"Sorry! I always forget. It's a quirk, the cinnamon. I can take it off."

He holds up his hand to stop her, "No. It's not that." He licks his lips and she almost gets lost in the small movement, "I've just never had a drink quite like this before."

Her eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up into her hairline, "You've never had hot chocolate?"

He shakes his head.

"You really are from a different world."

"I've been trying to say as much."

She doesn't answer his statement, still not ready for that, but smiles at him over the rim of her mug. _This_ she could get used to. It's not complicated or awkward, he just seems to fit into her life and her home. And Henry loves him. Sometimes she wonders if he really is from her past, if there's something that she's just missing.

"Sometimes I have weird flashes of memories or dreams and I'm not sure what's real and what's not."

He remains quiet, unsure of where she's going with this and not wanting to interrupt what feels like such an intimate and private moment.

"Sometimes I can't remember doing something in my past, like reading stories to Henry or taking him to his first day of school. They're things I know happened, but they're just facts – there's no feelings, no emotions." She sets her hot chocolate down, her whole attention going to the man on the opposite side of the coffee table to her, "I know something in my life doesn't add up. I don't know why you're here or who you are and I certainly don't believe in the fairy tales. But for some reason I want you around."

He can almost feel the last tiny vestiges of tension leave the room with the sound of her confession. It's certainly not something he'd been expecting. Hell, he hadn't thought he'd make it past the door. But David had told him before he left that Emma expected people to leave her, so making a conscious effort to stay must have earned him some brownie points.

There are only so many ways for this to work, for Emma to eventually come with him willingly. Her parents are quick and strong and he's sure they'll be okay for a while longer without their daughter. The important thing is that he gets her home and this is going to take some time. And so, in that moment, he makes a choice. Emma Swan must fall for him.

It's not a notion he's unfamiliar with, but the stakes are slightly raised this time. The Emma he knows had just begun to open herself to him, to the possibility of them. There was love in her heart for him when they parted ways, perhaps not the kind that leaves you breathless and dizzy, but certainly the kind that warrants nurturing and growth. The iron clad walls around her heart were beginning to crumble and if he'd done it once, he could do it again. For the sake of her family and for the sake of his heart.

He mirrors her, placing his hot chocolate down as well, "Emma, I can't promise that I won't bring it up, that I won't slip and mention all these people I know you care about. But I don't want you to push me away because of it."

She nods and he notices the way her eyes catch the light, tears pooled in them, her features almost seeming younger somehow, relieved of some burden she doesn't even know she's been carrying.

"Would you do me the honour of accompanying me tomorrow for lunch?"

She smiles that mysterious smile she has, the one that completely enchants him.

He_ does_ keep coming back. And it's not even a surprise anymore, he's just there. Always. For her.

She's terrified of the unknown he's bringing into her life, into her little family. But there's a voice in the back of her head telling her that she needs this, she needs to take this leap of faith.

And so, picking up her hot chocolate again, she nods her head, "Yes."


	5. Chapter 5

…

Five

…

Her eyes dare her to lie. "This is _not_ a date," she reminds herself rather vigorously, staring her reflection down in the mirror. She's already reminded herself that she's going to be paying for her own food (really, if how he paid for their drinks the other night is anything to go by, then she'll be paying for the whole lot), and that if it all gets too weird, she's using Henry as an excuse to leave.

Henry who is at school.

It doesn't matter. If Killian is really from another world he won't know that.

She touches up her hair, letting the curls fall around her face and makes her way out of the bathroom telling herself that she is not putting in the effort for him. Curls and makeup are not out of the ordinary for her, but she does usually only reserve them for somewhat special occasions.

Quieting the voice in her head, she switches on the TV for background noise and wanders around the apartment looking for her shoes. It's only then that she realises she hasn't got a plan for if Killian _is_ from this world and knows about school times. She stands up straight from pulling her boots on, eyes wide and confused. When the hell had _that_ happened? When had she slipped up and allowed her conscious mind to let her believe he was from a land of magic?

There's a knock at her door and she has no time left to ponder the ridiculous notion, flicking her hair one more time (and telling herself yet again that it's not for him) and letting him in.

"Swan," he breathes, and it's just like that first day she saw him, that look of hope and relief on his face, "You're beautiful."

She narrows her eyes, looking down at herself. Sure she'd put some effort in, but she'd hardly call herself beautiful. "They're just jeans, Killian."

"Okay," he says with a chuckle, his hand on her lower back, guiding her out of the apartment, "If you insist."

…

"I really will have to go soon," she says, laughing, "I have to pick up Henry from school and go to work tonight."

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, his hook on hiatus while he's in this place, "I promise to let you go." His hands drop and he leans in (she wonders if he understands how alluring he is), "Pardon my curiosity, but where is it that you work in this land?"

She rolls her eyes, "This is the only land. And I'm a nurse."

He nods, tilting his head, "Not unexpected, but very different to your last job."

"Yeah. Little different to waitressing."

"Not in this life. In your other life. You were a Sheriff."

She eyes him for a moment, trying to find his lie in all of his words. But there's never anything. He honestly believes what he's telling her. "I will concede on one thing," she says, changing the topic and stealing one of the last fries from his plate.

"And what is that, lass?"

"You are definitely not from New York."

He raises his eyebrows at her words, "Did my accent give it away?"

She shakes her head at him. He really is a challenge sometimes. "I mean more recently. You don't live here now."

"And how do you figure that, lass?"

"You don't have that big city feel about you. I'm guessing you grew up in the country?"

"Aye. It is true I lived in the country as a young lad. But I did my growing up on the seas."

She chooses to ignore that last comment – she doesn't want to argue with him. Not now, not when they're actually having a good time. Instead she tries to lighten the mood, "And, well, you didn't even flinch when I took food from your plate. There's a certain aggression that comes with living here, and you just do not have it."

He smiles at that, "And what about you, Swan. Did you grow up here in New York?"

And that's when it changes. The first thing he notices is that she checks her watch, a surprised expression crossing her face. The next is that she raises her arm, signalling for someone to come over and bring them the bill. Only then does she turn to him with apologies in her eyes and answer, "No. I grew up far away from here."

He knows that her childhood was turbulent, that she had been abandoned. But he had no idea of the extent it still hurt her even in this life. That she couldn't even answer him without discomfort was more telling than her mere sentence.

"I'm sorry, love."

She tries to smile as the waiter sets down a small black folder, "It's not your fault. It's just a sensitive topic. You weren't to know." Placing a few folded notes down, she hurries to collect her things, "I'm just…I'm sorry. I've got to pick up Henry from school and I have night shift at the hospital tonight and…" she stops midsentence, her brow knitting together. She had only ever see him pay for their drinks that one time with a golden coin and she doubts anyone else would let him get away with that. There is no doubt in her mind that he believes everything he is telling her, so if he's trying the pirate bit everywhere…

"Killian," she asks, completely throwing him, "Where are you staying while you're here?"

He noticeably blanches at that, eyes darting around the room. When they settle back on her, he knows the truth is his only option. "There is a comfortable chair in the entrance of your building…"

"The lounge in the lobby?" she confirms, "You've been sleeping on the disgusting lounge in the lobby." It doesn't even cross her mind that this is completely crazy, she just reaches in her bag and pulls out whatever cash she has in there, passing it to him. "Here, take this. Get a hotel room tonight or something."

He takes the money, looking at it curiously and she really does feel sorry for him and the state of mind he must be in.

"Thank you," he finally says and Emma breathes a sigh of relief.

"Okay, I have to go now. But see you again soon?"

He looks back down to the money she gave him and isn't sure if she's just asking to see him again out of pity. In the end, he decides that any time spent with her will be beneficial, regardless of the reason. So he swallows his pride, puts the money in the small leather pouch on his hip and nods, reaching out to grasp her hand and press his lips to the knuckles, "Of course, lass."

She smiles and turns away from him, the skin on the back of her hand tingly with excited heat. He may be crazy, but she thinks she's just as crazy for liking him.

…

It's ridiculously early when she gets home. Just before dawn, while the moon's still hanging high, but the sky is lightening a fraction. She shuffles into the apartment ready for a very long sleep having forgone her usual nap before night shift for her lunch date.

So intent on setting her bag down and ridding herself of her shoes and the top half of her scrubs, she doesn't notice the dark figure on her couch. When she ventures past the kitchen though, she sees the money she'd given Killian earlier sitting there with a small note. She picks it up, smiling at the way he even writes like a pirate, beautiful calligraphy with sweeping curves and a light touch.

_I came to say hello to your lad and he insisted I stay._

It's short and sweet and she can tell that Henry was behind the words, even if he wasn't behind the pen.

Only then does she hear someone stirring on the couch and notice that all his leather has been removed but for his pants.

And she _will not_ be thinking about that as she falls asleep.

"Swan, that you?"

She smiles warmly. His voice sounds even better when sleep is added, "Yeah, it's me."

His head goes back to the pillow, "I'll be gone by morning. On my honour."

And she doesn't have the heart to tell him it's morning already, nor does she feel the compulsion to.

…

_**For those who are interested, Emma actually means 'whole' or 'universal' in most languages, however, in some languages, it means 'nurse'. So that's where that came from :)**_

_**Thanks for reading lovelies, drop me a word or two on how you liked it or hated it.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thank you so much for the response to chapter 5, I hope you guys like this one as much (if not more, it's my favourite so far so I feel really nervous putting it out there!) Let me know how you go :)**_

…

Six

…

They fall into this dating cycle relatively easily in the end (or courting as he insists it's called). Emma's still not completely sure about the whole thing, but she's starting to develop some very real feelings for the man and every time he smiles and says, "Again soon, lass," all she can do is agree.

He'd even started paying, pawning one of his mysterious golden coins for a surprisingly large sum of money. The first night he'd put down a clean hundred dollar bill on the table she'd actually questioned his means of obtaining it, but when their most recnt date had included a visit to the very pawn shop he'd exchanged it at, she'd come around to believing him.

"It appears to be a genuine relic from the ancient city of Atlantis," the portly man with a wild moustache whose nametag identified him as 'Ted' had informed her. She'd side glanced Killian at that point. Atlantis? Really?

"But that's a myth."

The man had shrugged, "There are some things to suggest its existence, other relics, partial ruins, the infamous happenings of the Bermuda Triangle."

Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was she really the only person in the world who wasn't open to the idea of these other worlds? When had it become the norm for people to believe in Atlantis?

They had left the pawn shop, Emma staring after Killian as he walked ahead with confidence. "Wait a second, hold up," she had called out.

He'd turned around and she'd never been more aroused in her life. The cocky look on his face suited him so perfectly, "I told you lass, I know of lands you have not discovered. Atlantis may be a sunken kingdom, but magic can guard your breath and the treasure found there is worth any risk that needs to be taken."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "So you've been to Atlantis?"

He had smiled wider at her accusing tone, a reminder of the good old days when she would constantly berate him, "Aye."

And really, she hadn't been able to help herself from then on in. He'd been sleeping on her couch most nights, staying at a hotel when he thought Emma and Henry might need a break from him, but that night, as they'd left the pawn shop and he'd suggested dinner, she'd taken his hand, led him back to her place and straight to her bed.

…

"Emma," he whispers, his stubble tickling her cheek as he leans his head in to kiss her, "Lass, wake up."

She groans as she stretches out, their naked bodies colliding deliciously under the covers. His hand sweeps across her ribs, coming to rest on her back and pull her into him with a growl.

"It's early," she says, her eyes glancing at the clock on her bedside table, "Why do I have to wake up?"

She's adorable in the morning. He'll never tell her that because gods above she'd never let him, but there's a crinkle in her nose and the patterns from her pillow are traced across her face and he just wants to kiss her. So he does.

Long, soft moans dissolve into quiet whimpers of pleasure as his deft fingers trace their way down her body, gliding between her legs, sinking into her as he nips gently at her neck.

"Mmm, I could get used to this," she says as he enters her, her fingers running up his back and into his hair to pull him down to her. "More," she whispers, heat rushing through him and spurring him on until they come apart in each other's arms, their lips grazing whatever piece of skin they can find, showering each other in affectionate pecks.

"You know I'm going to have to get out of this bed sometime, right?"

"You lad is with a mate, you don't have to work until Monday. We could stay here quite a while."

Even as he says it, he's running tender brushes up and down her sides, tickling and teasing her, and as tempting as it is to stay in his arms and be ravished all day, she also knows there is a lot to get done before Henry gets home.

"Killian, I really have to get up."

She leans into him, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before she rolls over, pushes the covers down and walks shamelessly naked to the ensuite, turning around briefly, "Of course, you could join me in the shower."

The pirate has never agreed to anything so fast in his life.

…

It's just past midday by the time he actually goes, promising he'll be back again later on. She wants him to stay all day, but knows that she'll never get anything done with him here, especially not now, not when she knows what's under all that leather.

She smirks to herself recounting the night by memory as she begins her annual spring clean, mopping the kitchen and dusting every shelf. Henry will be back around dinner time from his friend's place and she wants to have everything done by then. It's easy to let her mind wander as she begins to whistle while she works, a tune of happiness stirring within her. It's been so long since she's felt like this, so long since her heart has felt so alive.

And she has no doubt as to who's making her feel this way.

Her fingers still on her old woollen blanket, the only thing left from her childhood, and as her hand pulls it out of its shelf, revealing the old leather bound book she'd hidden there weeks ago, her whistling stops with a depressing slide.

She gently tugs at the spine of the book, breathing deeply and pulling it down, feeling the same rush of emotions hit her that had led her to hide it in the first place. Panic. Fear.

_Curiosity._

The pages flick by in a blur, the stories she had already read revealing themselves in colourful pictures and bold writing. That is until she lands on a page with no words. Just an image.

And while she doesn't understand the tears, they spring to her eyes without her being able to stop them, "Oh god."

A shaky hand claps over her mouth as she stares down at the illustration and feels a strange pull towards the people there. There are flying monkeys with wild eyes and razor sharp talons terrorising the kingdom, Snow White hunched over, protecting the curve of her belly, protecting her unborn baby and Prince Charming bent over her, his back bloodied and raw from the attack.

She sinks to her knees, pulling the book onto her lap, looking for more, for the rest of the story. But there isn't anything to add. This is it. This terror is the end.

…

It's late when Killian comes back to the loft. Henry has been home, recounted his stories from staying with his friend, eaten dinner and gone to bed before the pirate even knocks.

She hushes him as he steps in the door, "Henry's asleep. He had a big day yesterday."

Killian nods, following Emma down the hallway entrance to the kitchen where he's surprised to see the book of fairy tales opened to a page near the end. "You're reading it?"

She swallows, thinking of earlier and the intense bout of pain she'd felt, "I am."

He steps towards her, "Emma, darling, I know I promised I wouldn't-"

"Then don't."

But he persists, "Do you remember anything of what you've read?"

"Killian," she warns, "What if I never remember it?"

And he sees how disappointed in herself she is. For the first time he sees that she _wants_ to remember, that she wants her reality back, "You will."

"You think so?"

His heart actually stutters, "I've yet to see you fail."

Her eyes light up at that and she leans into him, her fingers coming to rest on his stubbled cheek. He swallows, his breathing pausing.

She's so close.

And then she's not.

Her footsteps carry her away, over to the couch where she has that hot chocolate drink waiting for them, "Will you do something for me?"

He nods sincerely, "Anything."

She hands him a mug which he graciously accepts, sipping at the warm sweetness of its contents enjoying the peppermint twist she's added after learning he likes the taste.

"Will you tell me my story?"

He frowns, "I don't-"

"Not the one in the book." Her hand comes to rest on his knee, "Could you tell me about my life? The one you know. Please?"

He would never have denied her anyway, but if there was any doubt, the look in her eyes would have persuaded him. Longing and love and everything in between mixed in her grey irises.

And so he tells her of her life. The things he knows are fact and the things he's deduced from her tendency to leave her book wide open for him. He tells her about Regina raising Henry and about her finding her parents. He tells her about the magic within her, the magic that is so strong it stopped one of the most powerful women in the realms from stealing her heart. He tells her about Neverland and their shared moment and he tells her about Neal, about him fighting for her. Because that's the kind of man he is.

Even when he's got her, he's not naïve to think she won't leave him, that she's free to leave him.

And when he tells her about the curse that's brought them to this spot right now, she's already curled up against him, sleeping with an arm wrapped around his waist, her golden hair fanned out across his chest, moving with the subtle vibrations of his heart.

"I love you," he whispers, lying down and pulling her with him, cherishing what could very well be the last moments they have together like this.

There's something brewing on the horizon, memories and burdens coming for them, ready to take their small bubble of peace.

…


	7. Chapter 7

_Second last chapter you guys! This one nearly broke me. The final scene was actually the first scene I imagined when I started writing this fic, so I hope it comes across well – I've had a lot of time to become fond of it :)_

_Reviews are so appreciated! I'm once again aiming for the big 100 because I'm weird and like round numbers, so if you feel like helping a girl out I'll give you cyber hugs and smooches! :) Thank you, as always, for reading._

…

Seven

…

She's walking through a dark castle, a blue hue cast across the night from the moon light flooding in through the open windows. There's a motion in her belly and she looks down, her hand immediately going to the bump, feeling her son kick from within her.

_Why was she here again?_

She smiles down at her unborn child, "It's okay little one, we'll be fine." The reassurance is for her as much as her child.

She feels another kick and a rush of emotions hits her. She doesn't want to give him up, he's hers, he's her baby. _God_, she doesn't want to give him up.

"Emma."

She looks around wildly, searching for the source of her name. The urge to run hits her next, wanting to get out of there, out of this place. It's not safe.

But another kick hits her from within and she feels a tightening in her womb, bringing her to her knees on the floor of this room. She reaches a hand up to pull herself into a sitting position, leaning against the cot she's grabbed onto.

This is happening, she's giving birth here. Alone.

Tears stream down her face as she feels another wave of pain roll over her. Because she doesn't want this to happen yet, not here, not now. She's so used to having him inside of her, of being his mother. It can't end, not yet, she's not ready to let go.

"It's okay, Emma."

That voice again. She searches the dark room through her tears, "Where are you? Show yourself!" She clenches her teeth, breathing through another contraction, "Oh god," she cries. She _can't do this _here.

From beneath the cover of darkness and man appears, blonde hair like hers, white shirt stained in blood. He steps towards her and Emma feels frightened, but also strangely calm, "You can do this, Emma."

Sobs wrack her soul, her body making a dirty mess on the floor of the room. Her room, she realises.

"I can't be a mother," she whispers, her bottom lip trembling.

The man sits down next to her, holding her hand, "You will make a fine mother. But if you need to give him his best chance, he will find you one day. It's what this family does – we find one another."

Her heart is racing, "Family?"

"I should know." He nods towards the wooden closet sitting on the far side of the room, "I just had to give you up."

She looks up at him, "You're my…"

He leans in, pressing a kiss against her forehead and she lets herself have one moment of peace, closing her eyes, a soft sigh leaving her amongst all the pain. "I love you, Emma."

And when her eyes open again she's in the prison infirmary, her feet shackled to the bed, a cop by her head, a doctor telling her to push.

She screams out, crying when she hears her son cry, the sound breaking her heart.

He's hers, he's all hers.

But when the doctor tells her she can change her mind, she clenches her fists around the bars of the bed, turning away from the little bundle of innocence.

…

"No!" she cries, "No!"

Her body thrashes around on the couch, fists punching into the cushions, tears falling freely, "I don't want to give him up!"

Killian's arms try to come around her, try to calm her, "Emma, _Emma_. It's okay. They're just dreams."

She looks at him as though noticing him for the first time, "They're not."

He can see the fear in her eyes, the very real terror. And the memories swirling there. Oh the memories.

"You remember?"

Any façade of strength disappears in that second, her face falling and a sob escaping her, "I don't know." It's silent for a moment, the sobs in her chest stilling so she can gather her thoughts, "I remember what you've told me, but nothing new. I don't know. _I don't know_."

He doesn't know how to make it better, so he pulls her towards him, but she pushes away, "I- I'm sorry. Just…" she stands up, making her way to the bathroom, "I've gotta go to work."

He has no doubt that she's in a horrible state of mind, but he also has no say it seems, because twenty minutes later she emerges from her bedroom dressed and ready to go, a quick, "See you later," thrown over her shoulder as she leaves.

…

He's flicking through the book when Henry comes and joins him in the kitchen. Something of his concern must be laced through his features because as the young boy pours his cereal, he asks, "Does she love you yet?"

Killian looks up, closing the book, "Alas boy, I'm unsure as to your mother's feelings."

Henry reaches out to take the book, leafing through the pages he's been deprived of for weeks. He really does love the fact that his family comes from these stories, "Maybe you could try making her something nice and then just kissing her. If you have true love, it has to work."

The way he says it is just so simple and he wishes it could be like that. "I hope so, kid."

Seeing the issue as resolved, Henry smiles, "Want some Lucky Charms?" This world is a confusing one with multiple meanings for single phrases, but he gathers the boy is speaking of the cereal when he starts pouring him a bowl before he answers, "People always want Lucky Charms."

He picks up his spoon and begins eating the sugary breakfast food, "Thanks lad."

It's silent for a few minutes, the pair both contemplating the kiss that will end the curse.

Henry eventually grabs his backpack and heads for the door, "Just leave your plate in the sink, I'll clean it up for you later." He takes a deep breath and looks at Killian in all seriousness for a moment, "I have maths after lunch. If you could get mom to break the curse before then, that'd be great."

The pirate laughs at that, waving the young man off to catch his bus to school.

"On my honour, I'll try my best."

…

"What the hell?"

Bloody hell. He isn't ready for her yet. "Just wait a moment," he calls from the lounge room as Emma comes into view in the kitchen.

"Did I miss something? Is this some pirate tradition?" She picks up one of the bunches of flowers on the table, sniffing at them, pleasantly surprised by their unusual aroma.

"I'm just trying to do something nice." He hands her a mug with really dark looking hot chocolate in it. At her look he says, "I wasn't quite certain how to make it."

She smiles, taking a sip, "It's fine. I'll just add a little milk…"

"No wait," he says, taking her free hand and pulling her towards him, "I've missed you."

Her eyes go wide as he leans in, his lips inching towards hers and oh she wants to.

But her hand comes up to his chest, pushing him back slightly, just enough that he is forced to take a step, "Emma?"

She's looking at him with fear in her eyes, tears on the verge of falling past her lashes. She places her mug down, "It's not… I don't…"

He shakes his head, regaining his balance and stepping back into her personal space, "Don't do this, Swan. Don't reduce this. You can't tell me you don't feel _something._"

She keeps a hand up, buffering his advances. Reminding herself that she can't let this happen. "Of course I feel something," she whispers, her voice thick with tears, "I feel too much."

He swallows, the light flicking on in his mind, "You love me?"

She doesn't answer him, her eyes flicking all over the room, her hand still against his chest.

"Emma, please. You've got to let me in."

She shakes her head, "Why?"

"Because I love _you_ and we can break this curse. We can give everyone their happy endings."

Her eyes slide shut, tears finally spilling over onto her cheeks, "But what about mine? Ours? In that other life I let Henry go for ten years, I was alone and hurting and here I have him." She opens her eyes, grey irises battling with his blue, "Here I have you."

The air is heavy between them, thick with unspoken tension. Because it's all fitting together at the precise moment it's all falling apart.

She's being selfish and greedy and wanting to hold onto her happiness and who could blame her?

"I can't lose you," she whispers, echoing him from weeks ago as he had sat outside her door, telling her a story she never thought she'd believe, "I only just found you."

He attempts to move closer, reaching his hand up to cup her face, "I love you, Emma." The sincerity in his gaze almost breaks her. He won't lie when it comes to her, she's come to accept that simple fact, but still, it knocks her off her feet every time he proves it.

The tears run down her cheek and over his fingers as he tries to swipe them away. His honesty earns him hers and she chews on her lip a moment before saying, "I love you, too."

He can feel the hand on his chest slide down, can feel the tug as she decidedly pulls him in, her eyes closing and her forehead leaning against him.

And from behind them, he hears the front door swing open, Henry calling out, "Hi mom. I'm home."

Emma pulls back immediately, wiping her face with the back of her hand, "Hey kid, just in the living room." Her eyes meet Killian's briefly and she shakes her head just slightly, "I can't…"

And he nods, taking his exit before Henry walks in. The boy need not see a pirate cry.


	8. Chapter 8

_**You guys! I finished a multi-chap that I had set out from the beginning and just wow! Thank you to every single one of you who has stuck it out. I love you all to pieces. As ever, I'm looking for that big three digit number of 100 for reviews because I'm weird. But more than that, I hope you all enjoy the last chapter of this fic :)**_

…

Eight

…

"Mom?" Henry sits down next to his mother on the couch, reaching out to take her hand, "Don't cry."

She gives him a watery smile, "Sometimes it's warranted, kid."

"Does this have something to do with Killian leaving in such a rush?"

She nods, "Everything." She turns her body to face him, "You mother is a selfish person, Henry."

To her surprise, her son smiles up at her, "No you're not."

"Oh, I am."

"No. You have the most unselfish heart. I can't explain it, but I have had dreams about things, memories maybe. You staying behind in a town you don't understand just to be with me. I remember having code names for operations and they were lousy, but you were always there."

Her eyes meet his, the tears blurring her sight, but she can see clearly for the first time in weeks, "You know, don't you?"

"Know that you're Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter? Yes. Know that you were sent to break the original curse? Yes. Know that you have the ability to break this one by kissing your true love? Yes." He ticks them off on his fingers, raising his eyebrows at her.

She smiles, "You are far too smart for your own good."

He leans into her side, offering her an awkward hug that means the world. "I miss them, mom. I think it's time we went home."

She nods, "I'm starting to think so too."

…

She knows the hotel. It's only a few blocks from her apartment, so she forgoes the bug and walks with hurried steps.

"I'm looking for Killian Jones' room, please. He would have only just checked in," she asks of the man at the front desk flitting from one foot to the other in a kind of nervous hop.

"Here you are, ma'am." The concierge hands her a phone and she listens impatiently as it rings and rings.

Her mind flashes to Henry telling her weeks ago that he doesn't even own a phone and she passes the receiver back to the man. "Please, could you just tell me what room he's in?"

"I'm sorry, but it's against the hotel policy to-"

But she's already gone. Knowing the elevator won't work without a key, she spies the emergency stairs and begins climbing them. If Killian had found her in a city of eight million without so much as a map, she can surely find him in this hotel.

She reaches the first floor landing, opening the door and running to one end of the long hallway.

Her knuckles are sore and feel bruised by the end of the first floor and she has taken her fair share of abuse from sleepy and just plain annoyed patrons, but she powers on, taking the stairs again and starting the process all over.

It's not until she gets to the fourth floor that she starts to lose hope in all this. It's a tall building with hundreds of rooms and he may have checked in and left and not even be in the room at all.

Chewing the inside of her cheek to stop the tears from overpowering her again, she knocks on the next door nearly sobbing when it opens to reveal her favourite pirate.

"At last," she whispers, pushing her way inside before he can change his mind. She rushes to the sink in the room, guzzling some water and then turns to Killian who is watching her with curious eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he asks.

The longer she stands here, the more it pains her to think of the possibility of losing him, "If we kiss, what happens next?" Her eyes plead with him to answer honestly.

And of course he does. For her and for him and for everyone he is trying to save. "Because of the way this branch of the curse was constructed, Storybrooke will be rebuilt and everyone will return to this land as they were before the curse, leaving the Wicked Witch in the Enchanted Forest."

She nods – that much she had expected, "And my memories?"

"You will regain them."

"What about this last year? This last month?" she can feel the tears beginning to prick at her eyes again. The thought of losing this happiness is curling around her heart like a fist and she's not sure she can handle it.

"I don't know, lass."

And she doesn't even try to hold it back now, letting the tears fall down her cheeks as fear and anger take hold. She is happy here, she has everything that she can ever remember wanting. Safety, stability, a man who loves her and a son who accepts her love.

"What if I hurt you?" she whimpers, her voice so unlike her own. Vulnerable and scared. She feels like a little girl again.

He shakes his head stepping forwards, cupping her cheek against his palm and wiping a tear from her skin, "Oh Emma, it doesn't matter how much you hurt me, you are in my heart forever."

She can't help that her voice sounds so weak, "Forever?"

"Does that surprise you?"

"Yes." And it does. Because why does this person just keep coming back for her when her experience has always been the opposite?

He leans in, his forehead resting against hers, his breath blowing out against her lips.

It would be so easy to let it all go, to just kiss him and take the chance, but for the first time in her life she has so much to lose. Because while she has always had Henry, she knows that this one kiss will undo it all and while she's never been depressingly unhappy in her adult life, she's now never felt as elated as she does with Killian.

"I wish we could have a trial, so I could kiss you once more and know that I was going to remember you."

His nose bumps against hers, brushing one way and then the other, "Best I can offer, love."

And she knows this is it, standing in a hotel room in the arms of a pirate, she's about to change her whole life. She wishes Henry was here, but knows that no matter what happens, they will always find each other. It's just a sense that she has that she can't put a reason on.

"I love you," she whispers and then closes the gap. A warmth unlike any she can ever remember spreads through her body and out to her limbs, his head tilting with insistence, deepening their kiss, strengthening their bond.

A pulse shakes out from her extremities and into the world around them, the memories hitting her all at once in a bittersweet montage in her mind. Leaving Henry behind crushes her heart and she pulls back from Killian with a jolt, focusing on the feelings rushing through her. But then she feels his finger under her chin, tilting her head up to meet his gaze and a different set of memories course through her.

A beanstalk and a giant, a car and a hospital, a ship in a foreign ocean, a kiss in Neverland, and him. Always him.

"Hook?"

The smile that breaks across his face is something she will remember for the longest time, something that will comfort her when he's out at sea and she's couped up looking after their children, something that will make her smile when all she wants to do is cry.

And then he is kissing her again, strong and true and warm. "I knew it," he mumbles against her jaw, making his way down, "I knew you could do it."

She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck. It feels weird having conflicting memories in her mind, but this feels right, this feels like it was always meant to.

He spins her in his arms, reaching out behind her to flick the lock on the door.

There will be so much to do, so much to organise and to safeguard and her mind is already racing. But he made her a promise, told her that they could do this, that he would be with her forever. And forever starts now.

They fall back onto the bed, a laugh escaping her lips at the lightness she feels. And for the small amount of time they allow themselves, he whispers a story into her skin. A story that she knows to be true.


End file.
